Five Stages
by Normryl
Summary: Final Chapter. What he's been through, going through and will have to get through to get back that thing they call living. Mickey Webb fic.
1. Denial

**Title: Five Stages  
Summary: **What he's been through, going through and will have to get through to get back that thing they call living.  
**Notes: **Based on **Elizabeth Kubler-Ross' **_'Five Stages of Death and Dying'. _  
The five stages are **Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression **and **Acceptance.  
**This is set in Mickey's POV.

1. Denial

The worst lies are the lies we tell ourselves.  
We live in **denial** of what we do, even what we think.  
We do this because we're afraid

It never really occured to him what could happen to him, not straight away.  
It seemed naive really. Regaining consciousness as someone was tightening the ropes encircling your wrists in a vice.... most would be suspicious of the worse case scenario.  
For whatever reason, he'd always felt lucky. Like even when bad things happened, they never really got too bad, not bad enough that he couldn't cope anyway.  
So, the situation looked bad to start with. Ropes, a man with a violent history. But stupidly, he never felt in that much trouble to start with. He expected a beating. Would have prefered it.

There were things Delnaey did and said that frightened Mickey, more then he ever wanted to admit. Even the way he took the phone from Mickey's back pocket sent alarm bells ringing in his head. The way his hand, fingers, were between the phone and Mickey's body... something so wrong about that. He begged himself to stay together enough to keep the man occupied with something else. Delay him. Because he really felt like someone just might find him if he could only stall Delaney for a little while.  
But he couldn't do it. Couldn't stay calm, couldn't keep control. And he was supposed to be able to. He should be able to talk people out of practically anything. It was part of his job. And when it mattered most, he failed.  
Maybe it was because nothing scared him more than what could happen to him. Maybe he didn't care as much as he thought he did about other people.  
This was real fear.  
The fear only intensified as he felt Delaney's hands on him again. And it was nothing more than a game to Delaney. A sick, twisted game he was playing.  
He hardly stopped speaking. Maybe he liked the fear he heard clearly in Mickey's voice as he kept trying to stop him. His hands rested on Mickey as he stood behind him, let him bare some of his weight while he taunted and tormented futher. That was when Mickey stopped trying to speak. He felt almost hysterical and the more he spoke, the more joy he heard in Delaney's taunts. He liked telling him what he wanted to do. What he was planning in that sick, sick mind. So he just let his tears falls and mix in with the sweat covering his face as he tried, tried, _tried_ to get away.

And he didn't say anything else, but he couldn't stop the fear escaping through sobs. He'd never been so afraid. Ever.

He still expected it. Right up until that moment, he just knew he'd be saved at the last possible minute. And he'd deal with the fact that he was a mess because of the situation. It was understandable. If a couple of uniform saw him look terrified and crying, he didn't mind. Because he was terrified. And if it saved him then it'd be worth it.

But stopping speaking back to Delaney maybe wasn't a great idea. He liked the game and with Mickey not joining in, it was time to move on. And he decided carrying out the threats was the next part. He protested once, desperate to stop him as the hands reached round and undone his jeans, and it halted his actions for a moment. But Delaney leaned across, over him, touching him, whispered in his ear "I promised myself I'd make you pay." And still leaning on him, he pulled his jeans down. And he was watching Mickey's reaction. As he leaned across his body, he watched, got that sick pleasure from knowing how scared his prey was. Wasn't any different if it was a man or a woman, they were all terrified of him. He stood back up behind Mickey.....

Even as it happened, Mickey didn't think about it. His mind seemed to shutdown. He was aware what was being done to him, but he didn't react except those grunts and moans of pain he couldn't stop. He was sure he yelled in pain at first. Loudly. Very loudly. But after that, he tried to stay as quiet as possible. It wasn't possible to stay quiet. Not with what was being done to him. But the same thing that drove him earlier, desperation to be found was now his biggest fear. Because he couldn't stand the idea of someone coming in now. Anyone at all.

Especially someone from Sun Hill. The idea that Jack could walk through those doors, looking for him, seeing what was being done to him.... made him want to be sick. Made him want Delaney to finish the job off on him afterwards because he could never face anyone after this. He'd rather them find his mutilated, dead body than be caught like this. Weak and defenseless, being used by Delaney for some sick powertrip. Revenge... whatever it was.

When it was done, when Delaney walked away and left the warehouse without a word he was still vulnerable and helpless. He could lay there and wait to be rescued, but that's what Delaney wanted, wasn't it? For someone to find him like that. Half naked and shaking, brutalised. So he pulled and twisted his wrists to work his way free. It hurt so damn much but he had to do it. Had to get free. He didn't even think about the state he was in, jeans and underwear around his ankles, _something_ trickling down his thighs.... he knew what but didn't want to even think words like that. Denial.... it was his friend.

Eventually.... finally he was free.

He almost fell on the floor, almost lost his balance... but he steadied himself, grabbed the table for support and before he did anything else he pulled his boxers and jeans up. Was gentle when he got then all the way to the top, careful not to hurt himself any more. And then he gently let himself slide down the table onto the floor. His legs were unstable and weak and so he sat. He pulled his legs up, encircled his arms around them. Sickness sat heavily in his stomach.

And he sat there. Waited.  
_It didn't happen. It never happened_.

He could do it, if he could get himself together, give himself a little time to just make it seem like it never happened. Because that was the thing. _No one knew. _So if he could get out of here, get home... if he had that time he could fix it all.

He knew. It wouldn't be easy. Because there would be questions. Like where Delaney had gone. And what he had done about it. But he knew that when he got away from here and could think... and do something about the pain.... he could work it all out.  
And Jack wouldn't lose his faith in him to do the job... he just needed that time.

But then that terrifying sound... something he never wanted to hear....

"Mickey?" Distant but still there. And if they found him, then he'd never get the chance to..... to.... the word hide seemed wrong, but that's all that came to him. He couldn't let anyone find him and maybe he needed to hide. Just until they go.  
He wants to move, to try and find a safe place, but he never moves. He just stays still. And the voice gets closer. He knows it, recognises Smithy. And then he see's something move at the door. He knocks into the table... makes noise. And a light. Shining, searching. His head moves a little at a sound. And then the lights on him. He's not able to hide from it, but he still doesn't move. Not until he has to. But he does have to speak, has to say something. Stop him. Because he didn't do his jeans up... they're not fastened and he can see.  
And he's covered in sweat and shaking... _and he can see_.  
He just tells him to wait outside and he's okay. And he goes and waits.

The sickness is still there as he gets to the door and it closes behind him. And worried eyes are upon him, so he doesn't even look to start with. Not until he realises how his plan is being ruined as he is asked if he tied him up. And he lies and says no, and his arm he snatches away, but he's seen. _He knows_. But the denial remains.  
He doesn't need an ambulance, no one needs to know what happened, especially Jack although that's not spoken. He doesn't need anything. CAD needs to know he's safe and that's okay. If he's safe then no one will ask anything else. No one will care because they know he's safe.  
And Smithy will take him home and he won't have to drive and he doesn't think he can. Not all the way home. Not with the way he's shaking.  
And once he's home, he'll become safe. And he can set about making sure no one finds out.  
No one needs to know.  
No one will ever know.


	2. Anger

A/N: Thanks muchly to my one reviewer. :)  
Reviews make authors happy. They write well when they're happy.... just letting you know. ;)

2. Anger

_**Anger** ventilated often hurries toward forgiveness;  
and concealed often hardens into revenge._

He should have done something better by now. Achieved more. Got over things. He felt he should. Everyone else felt the same too. Felt he was stuck in a self-pitying mood and he could see that the sympathy for him was drying up fast.

He never wanted sympathy. Never. It's all he got. 'Poor Mickey'. They'd say. Knew the truth. Knew he been raped. So the pity came but he hated the pity. Hated it more than he thought he could hate anything. Hated everyone who turned up at his door wearing that look of sadness and guilt. But he knew that it was a mask and behind it they were just glad. Glad it was him and not them. Glad he'd left and they didn't have to deal with it.

It was always worse when _he_ came.  
In the days after it happened, he'd been there for him and in his grief and despair, he'd let him comfort him when he needed it the most, when he was too blind to see it was Jack, to see the truth. They might have been close once, but only through plotting and revenge. Not really through friendship. And it almost looked like friendship, but it wasn't.  
He'd feel different if it was, he knew that. He'd never feel like he did now. He knew it meant something different to him that it did to Jack. Maybe he was just a good tool to use, because he'd have done whatever Jack wanted, he was stupid like that. And Jack knew it. So he used him. He was his tool. He was whatever Jack needed him to be. And Jack could keep his hands clean. And he knew it.  
The alcohol in his system cleared his vision for the first time. Made him see Jack for what he really was. Because no one who was really a friend would ever make him feel so bad, never push him like Jack did.  
And he hated him for it.

So his timing was bad.  
Because if it was good, he'd never have been on that doorstep on that night.  
And he shouldn't stagger towards it and open it, but he did.  
And seeing him standing there just made him feel sick. Hatred. He didnt want to see him there.  
But when he asked him if he could come in, he waved him through.  
Didn't say anything and Jack _knew_.  
Knew he was slaughtered.  
Knew he'd been drinking for hours and the mess in front of him that swayed about was a result of that drinking. All he wanted to do was hurt him and he let him in to do that. Because he couldn't do it on his doorstep.

So Jack went through and saw the beer cans and vodka bottle that stood on his table. A couple had been knocked over by his stumbling about, but it didn't matter much. At all. Who cared.  
His carpet was stained.... no one cared.  
He was stained. Scarred. Something on him, _in him_.... it'd never go away. He'd never be clear, clean again. He was damaged forever.

And he was being talked at but he wasn't listening so he focused... looked. And the face was concerned and it made him feel sicker. It wasn't the drink.. it was Jack.

"How much have you had?"

His response was a shrug. Didn't care. If he could understand it couldn't be enough. Oblivion was not close enough to his grasp. He wanted it closer. He wanted to grip it with both hands and disappear into it until he was just... invisible. That'd work for him. No one could see. No one would see that damaged mess he was.

"Mickey, I'm worried about you."

Why should he care? He never cared before. Not really. "Why now?" He asked and he went to a chair and just slumped down. He was sat on something. It was uncomfortable behind him and something scrunched but he didn't care.

"I've always cared. I want to help you." If he wanted to sound reassuring, he failed and Mickey sneered at the attempt. And something on Jack's face changed. He looked.... worried, but in a different way. Not in a 'poor Mickey' way.

His eyes were heavy and he closed them. Just for a moment. A moment too long? Jack was shaking him awake, looked alarmed.

"Want that drink now?"

"What?" Jack asked. Close to him. Worried. Couldn't help himself.

"''member when me Mum died? We were gonna go for a drink."

"Yeah, I remember that. I don' think now's the time, do you?"

Smirked. He just didn't know. "Why?"

"You've had enough." Jack said.

Watching as he moved away and picked up some of the empty cans and bottles. He had no idea. "Int this just a pain tho'... bein' 'ere?"

Jack turned, confused. "I wouldn't be here if I didn't want to be."

"it's jus......" He searched his mind for what Jack had said. Couldn't remember those exact words. "ain't this just a duty you 'ave to do? Like that drink wiv me? Didn't wanna do it, did ya?"

"I don't...."

"S'wat ya told Rachel.... said it was a pain.... goin' for a drink with me..." No denial because it was the truth. Looked for something but his face just said guilty. Smiling, he wanted to hurt Jack a little bit more. "The day I buried me Mum and I was a burden to you, yeah?"

"It wasn't like that."

"Oh... you needed a screw then, yeah?" Mickey pushed.

"Mickey..." It was a warning.

He didn't care though. He wanted to push him. Hurt him.

"You bastard. You lied right to me face, too. Told me it was over with 'er..."

"I was trying to keep you out of things." He waited, hesitated. Probably knew that now wasn't the best time to have a conversation like this. But he tried anyway. "Everyone knew, you know?" Jack said. He looked but didn't answer, waited for Jack to carry on. He sat down opposite, trying to explain. "They could see something even before I could. Knew that whatever it was between us was more than just colleagues at work. And I hated that.. hated that anyone could see anything. And I didn't want to admit it. Maybe that's why when you pushed for Rachel to be out the way I dug my heels in. You were looking out for me because you cared.." Caught Mickey's attention. "..and I didn't deal with that very well."

"It doesn't matter... I don't care anyway." A lie.

"Yeah, you do. Especially if it's been on your mind all this time. Look, Mickey, I really am sorry if you feel...."

"Jus' leave it. I don't wanna talk 'bout it."

They locked eyes. Sincerity was there. He didn't let Jack say it all, but he knew he would have, knew he felt it. Could see it.  
And the anger ebbed away.


	3. Bargaining

3. Bargaining

Existence is a strange **bargain**.  
Life owes us little; we owe it everything.  
The only true happiness comes from squandering ourselves for a purpose.

It was one of his best weeks ever. Personally. Professionally.  
He might even say he was proud of himself, but that seemed too much. But the passing of his Sergeants exam was a great moment for him. Would be for anyone, really. He'd considered calling Jack, telling him about it. But he didn't. He was his past, not his future.  
He still didn't know about his move to NCS. He didn't need to know.

Instead, he celebrated his success with someone from his present, someone who he hoped would be his future. She'd suggested a meal to celebrate. Elizabeth... Liz.

A colleague to start with. Soon became a friend, a confidant. Although he'd still not spoke about _that_ yet. But still, if there were someone he thought he might eventually want to talk about it with, then it was her.  
She was smart, pretty. Cared about him. She kept herself together, was professional. He couldn't think of anything bad about her. Knew his Mother would have loved her. And so he was going to love her too. Because he wanted to be with someone his Mum would approve of. He wanted her to be proud of him, even if she couldn't be there to say it.

So he'd decided a few days ago, that to move on, to get over all the things that had happened, he needed a fresh start. Even MIT had been too close to Sun Hill for him. In many ways, Eva joining was even worse. She knew. And he hated someone knowing. And he'd hated going to Sun Hill when he had to because even though everyone was busy with everything else happening, there'd still been that moment with Tony and Smithy where they'd been awkward with him. And he'd had to say something.  
He knew that was it then. Away from Sun Hill, away from MIT... another fresh start. NCS.

When he and Liz had first started dating, he'd committed himself to making things work with her. Whatever he had to do, give up for her, if that's what she wanted.  
And he'd never been like it with a woman before, but something inside him was yearning for more with her. It wasn't just about lust and sex... in fact, the sexual desire wasn't that important to him. And she'd commented on that.. how most men were all about the sex but he was different. _If only she knew...._

She seemed to think that he was too gentlemanly to want to have sex before marriage, and he never stopped her thinking that. And although they did sleep together... two or three times, she took his reluctance to be as a result of wanting to wait.

But he didn't want sex. He wanted a relationship, he wanted everything. He wanted commitment, marriage, kids... they would grow old together, draw out a pension and live in a retirement home. That was his life, mapped out. Forever. Him and Liz.

She didn't know. Not how he'd planned it all out. But he was going to let her in on it. Tonight.

He had reserved a table at her favourite restaurant. The ring was in his jacket pocket and he'd left her a message to be ready for 7.30 and a cab would pick her up. And he'd already be inside, waiting for her. He'd wear the suit she'd picked out for him. Because she thought it would look great on him- and it did. And he'd get her a bottle of the best red wine that they served here because red was her favourite and he'd toast her and all she'd done for him. And once they'd eaten, he'd get out the ring and he'd get down on one knee and he'd ask her to marry him. If he knew her well, she'd say yes, and they'd hug and kiss.  
And then when they left the restaurant he'd tell her of his other surprise. Tell her how much he loved her and wanted to be with her and that he was going to re-decorate his flat and when he did, she could, if she wanted, move in with him.

For once, something turned out how he imagines it. Everything was perfect. She said yes to marriage and the people on the table next to them even applauded their happiness. They'd both looked a little embarrassed but were touched as well, because it was special for them. Memorable. And as they waited for the taxi, they talked and everything was becoming perfect. The job, his life.. all where it should be.  
Things just started to feel normal again.

He asked her in she wanted to come back with him, but she convinced him to go with her. Because he had some clothes at hers that she'd washed and ironed for him, and they were closer to work. They got back and they celebrated a little more, but things never went too far, because neither had any protection. And tonight, she wanted him and so she kissed him and told him to wait and she'd be back soon.  
Alone in the apartment, he went to the bathroom to clean himself up a little. He splashed some cold water on his face and then dried himself off. Refreshed him a little. He could do with a shower, to feel cleansed and fully refreshed, but would wait. He decided to make drinks for Liz's return. He'd never known her to turn down a cup of tea.

As he went to leave the bathroom, something caught his eye and he stopped in his tracks.  
It was him. His reflection. Surely it shouldn't stop him in his tracks.. yet it did.  
And in reality, he knew why it did, why it had that affect.

It was because for the briefest second, he didn't recognise himself. Not so much his physical appearance, but the suits he now wore- they weren't his usual choice. NCS were more professional than he'd been in CID and he welcomed that change. But it wasn't really him. And when he'd been introduced as Michael Webb he hadn't told them he preferred Mickey. He didn't want to be that man any more.  
Didn't want to be that victim. Because whenever he heard his name called, he heard the way Delaney said it. But he never called him Michael and he had no attachment to the name.  
he walked away from the reflection, didn't want to look any longer.

Liz wanted to get married soon. Didn't want to wait. And she sorted it all out. And he let her because it made her so happy. She seemed to have an endless amount of friends and family to invite and his own seemed... inadequate. It wasn't until they did the seating for the reception that she found out that his Mum was dead and with his Dad out of the picture too, it left one brother, and Mickey didn't even know if he'd come for the wedding. They weren't close, and Liz suggested her brother as the best man, because she was close to him. And because there was no one else he could think of, _just one_, he said it was fine.  
She went out shopping for dresses with her best friend and left him to make the list of guests he wanted there. A few old school friends, some work friends.... and one he hesitated over. Someone who at the same time as meaning a lot to him, he still wasn't certain whether to invite or not. The conflict within him confused. There was still his deep rooted fear that Jack really wouldn't want to be there, that he always used their relationship to his own benefit and at the end of it all, now he'd left Sun Hill Jack thought that any responsibility that typed him to Mickey was also gone.  
The pen hovered above the paper. To invite Jack or not?

Sod it, he thought and wrote Jack's name down.  
Maybe there was room for the DCI in his future, however much he wanted to move on from the past.


	4. Depression

A/N: Apologies for the lateness. This one took a while to get it's act together.  
Thanks to all my reviewers. :)

**4. Depression**

**Depression** is not sobbing and crying and giving vent,  
it is plain and simple reduction of feeling.

A lifeline had been thrown to a drowning man. The drowning man was him.  
Although he was only drowning metaphorically.

A way to get away from a job he couldn't return to. A new job. All he'd ever done was be a copper and to change now... wasn't ideal. Plus everyone would want to know why and would assume the worst. Although whatever they thought probably wouldn't be any worse than what he'd been through.

But it was still better than returning to the NCS. To everyone who would be asking whether he really had anything to do with Liz and her corruption. And just because no one else had seen through Liz's lies, didn't mean he shouldn't have. He was the one dating her, marrying her..... he should have _known_ her.  
Another new start was what he needed. But the idea of it.. of starting again.. it overwhelmed him more than he'd ever imagined it would. And how many times would he have to start over? Would he forever be running away from something. If it wasn't a link to Liz then maybe it would be why he left Sun Hill... running forever and never getting any further  
Because he couldn't escape could he? Not from things that haunted him, because no one would ever erase the way he felt inside.

Maybe it was the way a lot of other people felt. Other victims. He wasn't sure about it really. He never intended to get help, or talk about it. No group therapy or shrinks for him. He'd be happy to never have anyone know the truth, and that was what he would do.

He could live in silence with it. He would. At least as much as possible. There was the one exception. He took the tablets his doctor had prescribed him from the bag and looked at them.

His DCI had told him to have a few weeks off. They went too quickly. And the idea of going back out there, to NCS... he didn't want to go. For the first time ever, he didn't want to be a copper any more. So he called his boss up. Said he didn't feel ready. And there was a tone there, in his voice. He hated to hear it. It wasn't sympathetic or supportive. It was annoyed and frustrated. And he understood it, but still insisted he wasn't ready to return. Knowing there'd be no way to get him to come back, his DCI told him to go see his doctor and come and see him afterwards.  
He usually avoided talking about what he'd been through at all cost, but the idea of going back to work seemed the more substantial concern and so he confessed all. His mother's death, his rape and how he he just lost his fiancé. The doctor just sat and listened. Impartial... bored maybe. All part of his job, another day at the office. He didn't flinch any more than Mickey would hearing grisly details of a murder.  
He purposely left the details out about Liz being corrupt... that he lost her was enough information. The doctor told him he was stressed, anxious and depressed and prescribed him benzodiazepines.  
Valium. Never thought he'd have to end up on these little pills. He was far to aware of the long term affect they could have. Had tried not to take them very often, only when he felt himself sinking into despair. Like now.

He swallowed a dose and just waited for them to kick in, he just needed them to take the edge off.

Jack Meadows was the last person he expected to see at the door.  
There was a tension between them. Came from Jack's mistrust. His total belief in Neil and not him. That hurt Mickey and Jack knew it and had tried to tell him that he didn't believe it. He was just doing a job, but he would say that wouldn't he?

But Jack came with a reason. No social visit, not that Mickey expected it to be seeing as he'd not bothered since Manson's corruption investigation. He knew where Jack's loyalties really lay now. His visit came with just about the worse news possible.  
Just the name was bad enough, let alone details of it. Delaney. He'd escaped and Jack suspected he was after Mickey.  
Great.

Not exactly the news he wanted. He let Jack know that too. Asked if he had a Kick me sign on him. It just felt like that sometimes.  
He was more surprised by Jack's response though. Not the sympathy he expected, but a kick up the arse. Told him straight, whining about it sat at home would do no good. He should get out there and do something, more specifically, help him to find Delaney and get him back where he belonged, locked up.

But Jack didn't know the truth of the situation. He didn't know where Mickey was. His career. His life. It was all sinking fast.  
Jack just didn't understand. He tried. Tried to be there saying the right words, but he didn't know what they were any more than Mickey knew what he wanted to hear.  
But there was something. Jack was there. Inviting him in, giving him hope. Another lifeline. Another way to stop himself being swept away, pulled under.  
If he didn't care he'd have told Mickey the news, warned him to be careful and left. He wasn't doing that. He was helping him. Trying to. All he had to do was take hold of that lifeline and not let go.  
And maybe that was better than any words that he could say. Maybe it was worth _more_ than words. Jack was giving him a chance, a way back in. Was trying to help, even if he didn't really know what he was doing, he was trying. But Mickey didn't know any better. He had nothing going for him.  
A high-vis vest and a promise of a job wasn't enough. Not when the other choice was Jack.  
He went with Jack.  
He picked his lifeline.


	5. Acceptance

**5. Acceptance**

The first step toward change in awareness.  
The second is **acceptance**.

He hadn't planned it. It was just... his day, that case. _That girl_.  
He didn't ever feel like going home. Worked filled his days, gave him a purpose. Gave him power and control when he still felt it was unsteady in his hands.  
And it wasn't something he talked about. With anyone. Not even Jack, even though they were getting on better now. But he couldn't burden him with it forever.  
For Jack, it was history. He didn't realise how it stayed with you. How it'd be part of who he was forever. It changed him, scarred him and no matter what he did, the scar would never fade.

And going home used to be the end of a long day, a rest well deserved. But now, it was anything to put off that emptiness at home. The nothingness in his life. It just served as a reminder to what he could have now. Beautiful wife, shared happiness. He'd been so close, but he'd lost it all. So staying behind a little bit to finish off some work.... an hour at tops, he'd lie to whoever was the last to leave. He knew he'd be there as long as he could. Until he had to leave, until his eyes would be so heavy he could sleep at his desk.... he knew at least then he could get home and just sleep. As long as he didn't have to think. Thinking was not good, not for him.

But tonight had been different, the case.... the link to Delaney.  
He took Delaney's file out, looked at that mugshot... seemed to spend his darkest moments staring at that man. He felt a weird perversion staring at the man... was never sure why he wanted.. needed to see him, as clear as he was in his mind. He was always lurking in there, although in his head, he was animated, more dangerous. More insane than the picture would do justice.  
It was what he was staring at when she came in. Mia.  
And for some reason, things felt different that night. Between them. No expectations. She didn't push as much, let him talk. Maybe saw the sadness that was betrayed in his actions of staying so late into the night alone and in the dark. And so when she asked if he was okay, it didn't feel like it was something he'd been building up to. The words just came. Easier than when he'd tried to plan it. And having a case to relate it to... to use to distance himself from what happened to him. It helped, even if bracing himself for the reveal formed a lump in his throat, made him want to stop right there.  
She tried to help him, tried to sooth and let him know that it was okay if it was too hard, but he'd kept it back long enough. It needed to be said now and it came out with force. What he wanted to say, how it made him feel, she needed to hear it. _She _needed to. Because Jack knew and he couldn't tell him about it as he thought he was okay. Not great and over it but getting by. And if he told him all this, it'd be too weird for him. And he'd maybe start treating him differently when all he wanted to be was the same as everyone else. He yearned for normal.  
But he told her. Told her what happened to him. Told her why he did what he did and she forgave him. Just like that. It was that simple. Was it because he trusted her with something personal, she understood why he was like he was?

She had a reason for it. He guessed that's was what she needed. To know that it wasn't because he wasn't interested in her that he did these things, that it was really because he couldn't keep control of things. He had to have a release and drunken sex with strangers was his vice. His release. His escape. To show that he did have control over some things in his life.

Her phone rang. It dawned on him that she might have someone at home waiting for her.  
She'd moved on. He should let her go and be with whoever was calling so late. She checked it, said it was only Heaton, but by then he knew he needed to get the distance back. Because if she'd moved on and he got things wrong tonight, it'd be so much worse. He told her to go, he was fine. After all, he'd lied and said he had work to do, so he needed to get back to that work now he'd told her.

And even not watching, he saw her move away. Leaving. He didn't look.  
But she stopped. Didn't leave. And when she spoke, she hesitated but she went through with it anyway. And asked him. Words thinly veiled to ask if they wanted to try again. And he did. He so did. And so 'a drink sometime' wasn't good enough, he wanted it to be now. Had to grab the opportunity. And she wanted it too. He couldn't believe it really. That she was leaving with him. After the day he'd had. Jack flapping around over him and making sure he was okay, Carrie and her problems... but it could all be okay. If he was okay, she could be too.

And maybe there could be a happy ending now. Now Mia was aware of his issues. That he knew he had to talk to her, let her in again. And knowing that Jack did still care and worry. Because even when he knew Jack had to keep his distance, it still hurt. But if he knew... if he was aware too... then maybe he could live with his past.  
And finally accept his future.

The End


End file.
